


Hurricane

by a_fearsome_thing



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, and now a second chapter to make it better, angst in the first, descriptions of blood and wounds, teetering on the edge of anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8859955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_fearsome_thing/pseuds/a_fearsome_thing
Summary: Shiro is injured and very pragmatic about it. Hunk is decidedly less so.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro is my favorite character, and Hunk probably comes in second, so naturally I needed to hurt them both. This is meant to be gen, but take it whatever way you want.

Hunk hears Shiro scream and freezes for just a second before he _runs_ , blasting his way through Galran drones to get to the other end of the hall.

There weren’t supposed to be so many Galran soldiers here—Hunk is never trusting Coran again—and, despite Hunk’s bad feelings about it, the team had split up. Somehow Shiro and Hunk had ended up together while Allura led the other three at a nearby base. Coran was coordinating them all from the Castle.

The glint of amusement in Shiro’s eyes at Allura’s pronouncement of the splintered teams had told Hunk that their leader shared at least some of Hunk’s “Never Leave Alone Together for Anything Not Explosive” mental list. Shiro had caught Hunk’s gaze and immediately looked up towards the ceiling, hand covering his mouth as he gave a clearly fake cough. Hunk didn’t even bother hiding his smile.

He had wondered which of that combination had done it for Shiro. Lance and Keith? Pidge and Allura? Allura and Lance? Maybe all of them.

Either way, these missions were more of a training exercise, so Shiro hadn’t said anything against the groupings. He’d even mentioned to Hunk that he was happy they were paired together; they got to fight together so infrequently. The bubble of warmth Hunk had felt at that helped to push aside the feeling of foreboding that something was absolutely going to blow up.

Hunk really hadn’t expected it to be on his and Shiro’s end.

They’d been ambushed and separated, with Shiro fighting ferociously to get back to Hunk’s side. Hunk hadn’t exactly been slacking himself, but, well, Shiro.

So hearing the Black Paladin scream and seeing the splashes of blood on the wall and floor when Hunk manages to clear a space with his bayard? Yeah, that bad feeling that Hunk had managed to shove down and out of the way now explodes in his chest to shiver up and down his arms and legs.

He fights to steady his hands so he can aim, but his fingers are tingling and making it hard to keep the two-handed grip on the blaster. All his thoughts have shorted out to a running mantra of “oh no oh no oh God oh no.”

Somehow, and he’s not sure exactly how, Hunk manages to clear the hallway of the remaining robot drones. He frantically swings around in a full 360, bayard up and eyes wild, but he’s right, there are no Galran fighters left, he didn’t miss any, all that’s left is Shiro, slumped against a wall with blood coating one side of his armor.

Hunk’s heart skips and the air suddenly feels thinner, like he’s not getting enough oxygen to his brain. There’s a distant roar that threatens to grow louder in his ears. He’s not quite panicking yet, but he’s on his way there.

Hunk is good with technology and people. He is not so good with people’s insides being on the outside. He’s a sympathy puker. Blood makes him queasy. The idea of broken bones sets his brain to a channel full of static and a high-pitched whining noise.

But Shiro is there and Shiro is hurt and Hunk needs to help him, so he pushes all that down and goes to him.

Every step feels both heavy and light, and Hunk deactivates his bayard as he goes, storing it in its spot on his suit. It’s like no time at all before Hunk’s at Shiro’s side, hands fluttering without touching.

“Oh man, this does not look good,” he frets, unsure where even to begin.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Shiro says, nearly giving Hunk a heart attack. He flinches and falls backwards heavily onto his butt. He’d thought Shiro was unconscious!

Looking again, Shiro’s brows are furrowed and his eyes are clenched shut as a muscle works in his jaw. Even as Hunk watches, though, his eyes slit open and his forehead smooths, a reassuring smile attempting to makes its way to his face but stalls out just past a grimace.

“Right,” Hunk says, doubtfully. He trusts a Shiro reassurance that his wound isn’t that bad about as much as a Lance assertion that he won’t flirt with anyone for at least 24 hours. He’s sure they believe it to be true, but Hunk’s going to watch out just in case.

With that in mind, and with little shivers of anxiety sparking up and down his spine and into his fingers, Hunk moves Shiro’s hand away from his side. Hunk’s breath catches briefly, then he swallows hard and dedicates a small section of his brain to focusing on deep, even breathing.

Shiro’s side is torn open, the edges of the wound ragged even below the supposedly protective Kevlar-like material of the armor. It stretches from about halfway between his belly button and his left side, and it looks like Shiro had maybe got caught on one of those weird T-shipped Galran swords which then _ripped through his side_.

The mental image makes Hunk want to gag. Or cry. He holds it back with effort, but when he looks back up, Shiro is eyeing him with concern. Hunk tries for a smile that feels like it’s as shaky as his hands. Shiro nods, winces, and glances around them.

“We should get out of this hallway. Look for an empty room where we can at least bandage this before I try for any running.” Shiro’s lips twist and his voice takes on a sardonic, self-deprecating edge. “See if there’s anything close? I probably wouldn’t make it far.”

Considering the blood coursing over Shiro’s hands where they’re pressed again to his side, Hunk’s inclined to agree.

He also suspects that Shiro could make it pretty far on will alone before blood loss knocked him out, but the Yellow Paladin tactfully keeps that to himself. There is less than zero need to be encouraging that sort of thing in hero-complex Shirogane.

Hunk therefore decides to be very vocally supportive of Shiro’s plan.

“Yes. Good ideas. Out of this hallway he babbles. Conveniently, there’s a door a few feet away. Even more conveniently, it opens up to a fairly sizeable room instead of, say, a broom closet and, bonus, there are no Galra inside.

“Found a room!” he calls out, checking into the corners to make sure there aren’t any _more_ surprises. When nothing swoops out and tries to murder him, Hunk returns to the hallway to pick his way over robot pieces back to Shiro, who is _trying to stand up_.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?” Hunk cries, rushing over to force his _calm, reasonable leader_ to stay down with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Shiro actually stops and looks at Hunk, bemused, “Standing up?”

Hunk huffs. “You’ve got a hole in your side.” That Hunk is not looking at right now. “Stay down there.”

Shiro stares blankly at him, then says slowly, like Hunk is the one not making any sense and _Shiro_ is being reasonable, “We’re getting out of the hallway, Hunk.”

Hunk rolls his eyes, leans down, and hefts Shiro into his arms, bridal style. Shiro makes a small noise, eyebrows darting up.

“Yes,” Hunk says pointedly, “We are.”

“Oh,” Shiro murmurs, but otherwise remains quiet. Now it’s Hunk’s turn for his eyebrows to jump in surprise. He’d expected more of a fight. He glances down at Shiro’s face, more concerned now, but the helmet stops him from getting a good look.

Did Shiro’s lips look a little pale?

Hunk quickens his step and seals the door behind them as soon as he’s stepped through. He does another cursory inventory of the room and spots a chair that looks like it’ll recline a bit that he hurries over to, gently placing Shiro on it.

“Thanks, Hunk,” Shiro says, amusement mixed with real gratitude in his voice. Honestly, Shiro’s calm amusement and just general normalcy is doing wonders for Hunk’s nerves. Which, he realizes, is probably the point. There’s no way Shiro didn’t notice the minute shivers running through Hunk’s frame.

Unless Shiro’s shivering, too. Blood loss can do that, Hunk’s pretty sure. He frowns

They really need to look at that wound, and just the thought of it is a shock of lightning bursting to life at the base of Hunk’s skull. He donates more of his brain to keeping his breaths deep and even.

He also tries to ignore the feeling that his heart is attempting to pound its way out of his chest.

“Coran?” Shiro’s even tone breaks through the small hive of bees drifting closer to Hunk’s head. “We’re going to need a pick up here, when you’ve got a chance.”

Hunk scoffs. Way to underplay it, Shiro. At least Coran seems to sense there’s more to it.

“What’s your status, Numbers One and Two?” he asks after a brief pause.

“I’m fine, Coran, but Shiro’s hurt,” Hunk answers before Shiro has a chance. Shiro shoots him a look that Hunk ignores. “I don’t know how bad it is.” His eyes still keep skittering away whenever he tries to look too long at Shiro’s side. “There’s _a lot_ of blood.”

“It’s not too bad,” Shiro argues. “The cut’s not too deep, and there’s steady flow, so it doesn’t look like it hit an artery. Hunk finished off the Galra in the area immediately around us, but we don’t know if there are any more lurking. We’re safe for now.”

Hunk thinks that part, at least, is true.

“The others are returning from their mission. They were…successful. I’ll send them to your location.” Coran hesitates, then continues, voice growing distant like he was turning away from the communication’s control, “I’ll have a pod ready.”

“No, Coran—“ Shiro protests, before a  _click_ sounds, meaning Coran has muted him. Hunk hides the beginnings of a smile, as Shiro _pouts_ but removes his helmet to place it to the side, message delivered, and the burgeoning smile just drops off Hunk’s face because Shiro is ghostly pale. His scar stands out as a pink stripe across his nose and it’s the only color in his face.

Hunk moves swiftly, pulling his own helmet off and dropping it within easy grabbing distance before helping Shiro, who is trying to sit up. With an abdominal wound. This is why Hunk trusts Shiro to lead him through the most ridiculous of situations but not to take care of himself.

He grabs Shiro’s elbow and rests a hand on the back of his neck, leaning him forward and worrying anew at the coolness of Shiro’s skin.

“Help me get my armor off,” Shiro instructs in his Leader Voice, gone slightly breathless.

It’s a struggle, but between the two of them, the white pieces of Shiro’s upper body armor are laid off to the side and the black Kevlar—Hunk is just gonna call it Kevlar—part is rolled to Shiro’s waist, leaving him in only the white undersuit. Or rather, mostly white.

It’s soaked with blood all down the left side. Hunk only has a second to feel a new burst of horror at that because Shiro starts wrestling his way out of that, too, so Hunk flails forward to help him by preventing him from making himself even worse, oh my God, Shiro.

As Shiro’s torso is revealed inch by inch, Hunk has to close his eyes against yet another pain clenching hold in his chest.

Shiro is _covered_ in scars. He’d assumed, but seeing it…Hunk swallows hard and shakes harder.

But Shiro is also actively bleeding, and really, Hunk, priorities. He thinks maybe singular focus on individual tasks is going to be the only way he gets through this.

Once the white suit is also puddled around Shiro’s waist, the Black Paladin takes a moment, hand pressed to his side, and breathes heavily. Hunk rests a warm hand on a clammy shoulder and helps to keep him semi-upright.

“Ok, Hunk,” Shiro pants, still remarkably collected. Hunk avoids the thought that this could be commonplace for Shiro, but the scars lurk in the corner of his mind anyway. “I need you to tear off the top part of my undersuit. We’re going to use that as bandaging, okay?”

Hunk nods and reaches out careful hands to grab the suit where it was torn through and rip it all the way around, gentle so he doesn’t jostle Shiro too much. Once it’s completely separated into two pieces, Shiro shifts like he’s going to try to pull it over his head. Hunk shakes his head and tears it straight up the back before the wounded man can move too much.

The smile he receives for that has a grateful edge to it.

“Good man,” Shiro manages. “Now we just have to, ah, make sure it’s not deeper than I think it is.” Which means looking at it. Hunk’s heart is back in his throat. “If it is, I might have to cauterize it.”

Hunk can _feel_ the rush of blood as it leaves his face. Shiro is talking about burning his own side closed so matter-of-factly. Hunk blinks and steadies himself. He’s definitely at a constant, faint tremor now.

“I don’t think it’s that bad. I wouldn’t be conscious if it was, most likely.” Oh, God, Shiro is comforting _him_. Hunk straightens his back, shakes his head against the consistent hum of fear, and arms himself with the remnants of Shiro’s suit.

He forces himself to look at Shiro’s side, where Shiro is already poking around his wound, and bats his hands away.

“Just lay back, Shiro. I’ve got you.” Whether Shiro can feel the shaking in Hunk’s hands or hear the tremble in his voice doesn’t seem to matter, because he relaxes immediately backwards into the chair and closes his eyes.

Hunk’s throat tightens at the display of trust, firming his resolve.

He presses at Shiro’s side with renewed determination, shutting off his own emotional reaction to the rush of new blood from the wound. The edges of the slice are inflamed and ragged, like it tore instead of slicing, but it looks long, not deep. Hunk can’t see any muscle.

He reports his thoughts to Shiro and ignores both the jaw clenched in pain and the small relieved sigh.

“Good,” Shiro says faintly. “That’s great. Thanks, Hunk. What I need you to do now is to rip the suit into strips for bandages. But roll the sleeves into a pad.”

Hunk complies as quickly as he can, soon waiting for further instruction with a thick pad in one hand and several strips in the other.

“Good job. Now press that pad to the wound and hold it tight with pressure. We have to stop some of this bleeding.”

Hunk’s feeling somewhat lightheaded again, and he knows if he opens his mouth he’s either going to throw up or cry. He keeps it firmly shut and nods instead, stepping back over to Shiro’s side, leaning him forward again so Hunk can reach behind his back to wrap the bandages.

With the pad pressed to the wound, he begins to loop the bandages around Shiro’s waist. Shiro lets out a small grunt and puts his own hand on top of Hunk’s. Hunk freezes.

“You need to press harder, Hunk,” Shiro says quietly. Gently. Hunk’s eyes burn. “It’s going to hurt a little bit, but I could lose too much blood before the others get here if you don’t do it. I’m sorry, Hunk, but even if I sound in pain, you have to keep going.”

The burn worsens. And the worst part, the worst part isn’t that Shiro’s right and that Hunk has to cause him more pain to help him. It’s that he knows Shiro is going to be fighting as hard as he can to not make a sound in order to spare Hunk, so if he does scream, it’s because Hunk is hurting him so much that he just can’t help it.

Hunk clenches his eyes shut and presses down, hard. Shiro lets out a hiss, but Hunk perseveres, wrapping the suit-bandages as tightly as he can. He almost sighs in relief when he ties off the ends, but Shiro’s hand finds his again as he lets off the pressure.

“Don’t let go,” Shiro practically whispers, voice firm despite it all.

“I won’t, Shiro,” Hunk promises, his own voice sounding like it’s coming from far away and under water.

“Good man.” Shiro pats Hunk’s hand once, but then doesn’t pull away leaving his own resting on top as a steady weight. Hunk would really like to cry now. “Let go if the Galra find us. You’ll need both hands for your bayard.”

“Got it,” Hunk says, face screwed up against the tears.

Shiro must hear something in his tone, because he cracks his eyes open to focus on Hunk for one last warning, “I might pass out. That’s ok. The others will be here soon. We’ll be alright, Hunk.”

He directs another smile at Hunk and allows his eyes to slip back closed.

“Ok, Shiro. Ok,” Hunk whispers, settling in to wait.

Time slipstreams as he watches Shiro’s face and listens to his too-quick breaths. Shiro’s color doesn’t improve, but he doesn’t seem to get any worse, either.

The blood hasn’t yet seeped through the bandage.

And so Hunk keeps pressure as he hears shouting through the comms in their nearby helmets. He holds on as the other Paladins and Allura come bursting into the room, horror registering on their faces at Hunk’s bloody hands and Shiro’s lack of both color and consciousness.

He only lets go once Allura swoops in and scoops Shiro up into her arms, spinning around and sprinting back out of the room with Pidge and Keith hot on her heels. Keith pauses in the doorway to look back at Hunk, giving him a once over, but then in a blink, he’s gone again.

Once they’re out of sight, then, and only then, does Hunk allow himself to fall, shaking and crying and buzzing with adrenaline, into Lance’s waiting arms.

Maybe later Hunk will realize that he’s capable and did well, that he can do this again if need be. Shiro will be alright and Hunk helped to ensure that. He can take care of his family’s wounds. He can step up when necessary.

But for now he shakes and he trembles and he cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! My first published fic for this fandom. It, um, was supposed to end happier, but that just seemed like a good place, you know? Sorry. Shiro really is ok, though! Most stab wounds that are that shallow just require stopping the bleeding, probably some stitches, and then you're good to go. He just lost a bit extra blood because of the situation. He might not even need the pod, just some fluids. 
> 
> If you feel like I got something right or horribly wrong, please let me know! I'm trying to figure out the characters, as well as grow just as a writer. It's absolutely appreciated. 
> 
> Feel free to drop by on tumblr and leave a message or something, with questions or critiques or whatever. I'm at thehouseofthebrave.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. There Is Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro wakes up. He and Hunk talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got such an amazing response and a couple of you requested hugs for both of them, so I rode that high of warm fuzzy feelings and tried for some fluff. I don't write enough fluff. 
> 
> This is unedited and possibly littered with mistakes, but I sort of like where it went. I hope you do, too. 
> 
> Here you go, the unexpected and pretty short second chapter, dedicated to all you lovely readers who absolutely made my day. I know I haven't replied to all the comments, because I don't want to falsely inflate my comment count, but know I read them and love them and this is my (hopefully decent) thank you.

When Shiro wakes up, it’s a slow meandering route to consciousness hindered by the fact that he is swathed in warmth. His thoughts drift, content to bask in the rare feeling of absolute comfort.

Slowly, though, the wheels start turning, and the niggling memory that he fell asleep in far less comfortable surroundings begins to nag at him. His mouth feels full of cotton, and his brain is fuzzy in a way that is rapidly becoming disquieting as Shiro rises closer to full awareness.

Something heavy shifts next to him, disrupting a solid point of warmth along his right side, and a pressure wrapped around his right hand that he hadn’t noticed before increases, then tugs. Shiro’s heart kicks up a beat and his eyes snap open as he rapidly turns his head to see what is constraining him, what is trying to take his arm.

His rising panic comes to an abrupt, crashing halt when it slams into his confusion.

That’s Hunk, his brain supplies. Hunk is sitting at his bedside, half lying on his right arm and resting his head on their joined hands. Hunk is holding his hand. That’s the pressure, and must be what the tug was, too; Hunk fidgets even in his sleep.

Shiro absently stores that away as he puzzles instead over why, exactly, Hunk is sleeping in a chair next to his bed.

Actually, he notes, taking in more of the room beyond Hunk, not in his bed. He looks around, brows furrowed. He’s in the Castle’s medbay, where they treat their less serious injuries that don’t require the pods, usually caused by training. There’s a nearly empty bag of some sort of fluid hanging from a pole, with a line snaking down under his sheets.

He gives his left arm a slight tug, and there’s a consequent pinch in his forearm that confirms it’s going into him.

A picture is forming in Shiro’s memory, and he winces. Right. Well, that explains Hunk’s presence at his side. He must have terrified the poor kid. He’d asked him to do something Hunk was clearly uncomfortable with and then he passed out on him. There weren’t really many other options, but it’s still unfair to have put Hunk through that.

Shiro will have to apologize when he wakes up. After he thanks him for saving his life.

Hunk shifts again, probably disturbed by Shiro’s own movements during his investigation. Shiro watches, amused, as Hunk lifts his head, eyes half-lidded, and lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. He keeps a solid grip on Shiro’s hand, but brings the other up to stretch high above his head, and then to wipe at the corner of his mouth. Mid-motion, he seems to catch sight of Shiro watching him and freezes.

Shiro grins at him, eyebrows raised with an honest humor. He can practically see Hunk working through motions of fully waking up, pulling his hand away from his face to adjust his headband. Shiro feels a pull on his right hand and looks down, then back up at Hunk who is staring in confusion at where his fingers are interlaced with Shiro’s.

A tick goes by, then another, and then Hunk flushes scarlet to the tips of his ears.

Shiro can’t help it. He laughs. Hunk just stares at him, wide-eyed and bright red, and Shiro laughs harder. Slowly, a smile breaks across Hunk’s face, too, and he gently frees his hand from Shiro’s.

“Uh, hey, Shiro,” he says, a hesitation obvious even in his embarrassment. Two handed again, Hunk fixes his headband, and his gaze flicks quickly between the IV bag, Shiro’s left side, and Shiro’s face, never settling for long and never quite meeting Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro’s grin slips off his face before it creeps back as something softer. He struggles to rise into a sitting position, uncomfortable lying flat while Hunk sits beside him, and Hunk immediately reacts, reaching out to brace Shiro’s back and help him adjust. Hunk even produces more pillows from somewhere to stick behind him and help prop him up.

Shiro leans back against the pillows, grateful to not have to antagonize his healing wound by using his abdominal muscles, and shoots another smile at the Yellow Paladin.

“Thanks, Hunk,” he says, warmly.

Hunk shrugs it off, “No problem, Shiro. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Shiro shakes his head, both in answer to the question and at Hunk’s casual dismissal. Hunk needs to be thanked more often, for all the things he does for them. Shiro clears his throat and elaborates, because Hunk deserves it, “Not just for now. Thank you, Hunk. You really saved the day…yesterday?” Now that he thinks about it, Shiro’s not sure how long he’s been asleep.

Hunk nods absently, which Shiro takes to mean his guess for timing was correct, but he still refuses to meet Shiro’s eyes. He plays with the edge of Shiro’s sheet. Shiro’s heart sinks and he sighs.

“I’m sorry, Hunk,” Shiro says, a little helplessly. That gets Hunk to look at him, at least. Shiro’s not apologizing for getting injured; he knows that would upset Hunk more than it would help. To apologize for that would be to selfishly try to make himself feel better. “It’s a tough situation for anyone to be in, and I asked some really difficult things of you.” Hunk bites his lip and blinks rapidly, but he doesn’t say anything, so Shiro continues. “You did an amazing job.”

Hunk sniffles and rubs an arm across his eyes, which are looking pretty red-rimmed, but he’s not avoiding Shiro’s gaze anymore. Shiro keeps smiling at him, until another thought strikes him and his brow furrows in concern.

“How are you? Were you hurt?” Shiro hadn’t even considered that Hunk could have been injured, and a flare of guilt flashes through him. It's short-lived, though, as Hunk is quick to reassure, shaking his head and gesturing expansively.

“No, nope, not a scratch. I’m completely fine,” Hunk claims, mustering up the fakest smile Shiro has ever seen from the big man. Shiro raises an eyebrow.

“You know it’s ok if you’re not fine, right?” Shiro says, and then winces at Hunk’s scoff and knowing look. Fair. Shiro deserves that. Their positions are slightly different, but Shiro is not going to have that argument right now. He lets it go and leaves his question out there, expression as open as he can make it to invite a response.

“You were the one who was bleeding to death!” Hunk finally bursts out, then quiets like he’s surprised he yelled at Shiro. Shiro grins a little and shrugs.

“That was easy, though.” He gets a little amusement from Hunk’s flabbergasted sputtering at that. “Really. You were the one who had to see your leader go down, finish the fight, find a safe place, and then take care of me until the others came to help. I passed out on you,” Shiro remembers. That probably hadn’t helped.

Hunk's hands fly to his head in agitation, “I was basically useless! You had to talk me through everything! You were bleeding and hurt and you were comforting _me_.”

Shiro shrugs again, “You’ve never been in a situation like that before. We should probably do some first aid training, actually. I was fine. I had you.”

That’s about all that Hunk can handle, it seems, because he bursts into tears, hunching over on himself. Shiro is, honestly, sort of alarmed and hopes that these tears are more of a release than anything else. He rests a comforting hand on Hunk’s shoulder and lets him cry.

It’s a few minutes before Hunk runs out of tears. He sits up, wiping his eyes and then his nose on the corner of Shiro’s sheet. Shiro grins at the look of disgust and horror Hunk shoots at the bed when he realizes what he's done. Shiro leaves his hand where it is on Hunk’s shoulder.

After a couple ticks of silent fidgeting from Hunk, he looks up self-consciously at Shiro, who continues to patiently wait for him to speak. A weak smile spreads across Hunk’s face, and relief trickles through Shiro’s chest.

Hunk’s going to be alright.

“Feel any better?” he asks, just to make sure.

Hunk nods, and Shiro’s smile warms, “Thanks, Shiro.” He pauses, obviously wanting to say something else. Shiro nods, encouragingly. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”

It’s Shiro’s turn to hesitate. He doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t keep, and he’s wary of some of the things he expects the team to try to make him swear. He’ll never be able to compromise the other Paladins’ health or safety in order to preserve his own.

“I’ll do whatever I can,” is the closest he can get to a no-holds-barred promise. The look Hunk shoots him is knowing, but the Yellow Paladin saves that battle for another day and lets it go. Shiro is relieved to put it off for now, but he knows it’s coming.

Instead of anything like what Shiro was imagining, Hunk quietly asks, “Can I have a hug?”

Shiro is stunned for a brief tick before warmth suffuses through his entire body.

“Of course, Hunk,” Shiro agrees, hoping that the love the Black Paladin feels for him, feels for the whole team, is as evident in his voice as he thinks it is.

Hunk wastes no time before he is leaning over Shiro’s bed, carefully entering Shiro’s personal space and gently wrapping his arms around the injured Leader to pull him into the best hug Shiro has had in _years_. Shiro wraps his own arms around Hunk, ignoring the slight pinch in his healing side, and holds him tight. Sometimes he worries Hunk is too kind for some of the things they do and that happen around them, but he wouldn’t change the other man for anything.

So, Shiro sits and holds him, and lets himself be held in return.

“We’re going to be ok, Hunk,” he says quietly into Hunk’s ear, pressed as he is against Hunk’s shoulder. Hunk doesn’t say anything, but he does hold Shiro a little tighter, and Shiro figures that’s response enough. **** __ __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then the whole team came in and there was a lovely group hug. The end.
> 
> Thank you again, so wildly much for reading! 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment here or at my tumblr (thehouseofthebrave)!
> 
> PS- I decided not to stick Shiro in a pod for a few reasons. One, it's really an easily treatable injury, they just glued it back together (yay advanced Altean medicine) and gave him some fluids (I have decided there is a stem-cell style blood replacement product that works across planetary species) and let him rest. Two, VelkynKarma mentioned concerns about Shiro's arm and the pods in Routine Maintenance, which is every single kind of amazing and everyone should read it. I've basically adopted it as canon until proven otherwise.


End file.
